


Make You Sweat

by verucasalt123



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Rimming, Soulless Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-18
Updated: 2013-03-18
Packaged: 2017-12-05 16:36:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/725470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verucasalt123/pseuds/verucasalt123
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt: <i>Rimming. Sam makes Dean come just by rimming him with his tongue. Est. relationship, please. Lots of moany Dean</i> at Summer of Evil 2011 Fanworks Challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make You Sweat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [notsodamaged](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=notsodamaged).



> I warn for dubcon here, because though Dean clearly thinks he should NOT be having sexytimes with his brother's soulless counterpart, he does still enjoy the encounter. In my brain, Dean still wants Sam, but I know others may see this differently.

[](http://pics.livejournal.com/verucasalt123/pic/0000f26b/)

It wasn’t too long after Sam and Dean were reunited that they resumed the sexual relationship they’d had off and on for years, since they were really still just kids. Of course, it wasn’t too long after that when Dean realized something was not right about his brother. He was stingy with his affection as he was trying to work it out in his head, exactly what was wrong with Sam. After Castiel handed down the diagnosis explaining Sam’s symptoms, everything bedroom-related except for sleeping came to a grinding halt. Well, for Sam, that wasn’t a complete change, since he’d revealed he hadn’t been sleeping all this time anyway. 

And wasn’t that just the way. There was always something Sam kept hidden away. Whether it was something small or something Apocalypse-starting, he was never an open book like Dean was to him. Dean had always resented the hell out of it, but not like this. He wasn’t sure if it was worse, or if it was just that one last thing that proved to him that his brother, no matter what he wanted to believe, was not trustworthy. 

For a while, Sam made a show of being exceptionally remorseful and tried everything he could to get back into Dean’s good graces (and back into his bed, as this new Sam had no frame of reference for going without sex when he wanted it). But there came a point where the pretense fell and Dean told the T1000 version of his brother to quit pretending, and for God’s sake, to quit trying to get into his pants. That was _not_ going to happen. If they could get Sam’s soul back, maybe, one day, but Dean wasn’t getting naked for this stranger who had been pretending to be his lover. None of Sam’s (not-Sam’s) arguments made any headway, and Dean held his ground. 

Until one night after a particularly brutal hunt that had followed a 14 hour road trip to the destination. They both showered back at the motel, Dean going first, as was the norm these days, and having downed half a bottle of Beam before his brother (his not-brother) came out of the bathroom with nothing on but a towel loosely fastened at his waist. Dean was drowsy and approximately one and three-quarters sheets to the wind, but when Sam dropped the towel and climbed into his bed, he sat up like a shot, hands out to protect his space. 

“Dean. You need this. Don’t try to tell me you don’t. Come on.”

“ **You** need this, asshole. And you can get it wherever you want, except for here. Your exception to one night stands seems to have disappeared with your soul, so why don’t you just put your clothes back on and go out to pick up some chick, bang her in the bathroom of a bar or something.” No matter what else had changed, the idea of Sam (not-Sam) picking up another guy was something Dean’s brain could not process, would not accept as a possibility.

Sam (not-Sam) laughed. Really laughed. “You say that like banging some random chick in the bathroom of a bar is reprehensible behavior, Dean. It sounds like you’re _condescending_ to me for doing things like that when we both know you’ve done it plenty of times.” There was a dangerous edge to the tone of his voice just then that made Dean's blood run cold. But he followed the comment with a low chuckle. “When did you turn into a prude, man?”

Dean remained silent and turned his head in the other direction, not even wanting to look at his brother (his not-brother) right that minute. He didn’t give a shit what it sounded like.

Sam didn’t move. He sat patiently on the edge of the bed, still looking expectantly at Dean. Dean took another swig from his bottle. Two swigs. Three. Things started to get a little fuzzy for a second, and maybe he let his guard down. Before he knew it, Sam (not-Sam) had him flipped onto his stomach with his boxers halfway down his thighs. Dean tried throwing him off, but T1000’s extra 20 pounds or so of pure muscle prevented him from doing much.

“Cut it out. I’m serious.” Dean mustered up the best ‘cut it out I’m serious” tone he could manage, but his exhaustion, his alcohol intake and his lack of willpower were causing him to lose the battle.

“I feel like this is one of those times when I should do something nice for you, Dean. You don’t have to do _anything_. Swear.”

He pulled Dean’s hips up and angled them just how he wanted. “Don’t move now, Dean, just take it, it’s gonna be so good, I’m not gonna hurt you”, he whispered right next to Dean’s ear. 

And that was just it. His resolve crumbled as he recognized the sound of a long, deep moan making its way up his throat and right out of his mouth. He buried his face into the pillow and thought, well, Sam (not-Sam) is about to fuck me right through this mattress and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. 

But Sam just moved onto his knees and lowered his head. He pulled Dean’s cheeks apart and licked his hole with the flat of his tongue, just enough pressure to send Dean into another bout of moaning like a porn star. So Sam just continued, licking softly, then sucking, then pointing his tongue and forcing it inside the rim of Dean’s asshole, pushing in and circling around as he used to when he got into the mood for it before…well, just before. 

Dean’s cock was a treasonous fucker, and was hard enough to cut glass within minutes. What he didn’t realize at the time was that this wasn’t prep. It wasn’t foreplay. Sam (not-Sam) had this whole thing planned. The rimming was the whole goddamned show. 

The licking, sucking and tongue-fucking continued, and Dean was whimpering, writhing, incoherent. “Doesn’t matter what you think I’m missing now, does it?”, Sam asked, not expecting a response, at least, not a response in words. “You’re moaning like a little whore. You fucking love this.” Then he started again, this time pushing his tongue in farther, holding on tight to Dean’s cheeks to keep them apart, giving him easy access. He broke up the strokes into his brother’s ass with more fervent licking, sucking, even nipping at Dean’s hole with his teeth now and again, he sound of it just as obscene as Dean's cursing and groaning. He knew he could make this happen. He could keep his promise that Dean wasn’t going to have to do anything. 

Dean held out as long as he could, but he’d already lost one fight – any dignity he may have possessed before Sam (not-Sam) had pulled his boxers down was long, long gone as he continued to squirm, whine, whimper, moan and he could feel that heat radiating out from his spine, spreading around him, into his belly. Sam felt it when Dean’s balls started to draw up tight against his body and he smiled as he kept on licking, sucking, giving the most enthusiastic rim job he’d ever given in his life. 

No more than two minutes later, he felt Dean’s entire body tense, heard his wild, loud keening sound, and could have sworn he heard something resembling “Sammy” lost in the noise somewhere when Dean’s orgasm sped through him like a bullet, coating the blankets and Dean’s own belly and cock with his seed, without his dick having been touched even once. 

He gave his brother a minute to recover, then sat back on his heels, wiping his face with the towel he’d discarded after his shower and smiling with something he figured was probably satisfaction or maybe pride in a job well done. 

Sam (not-Sam) stood up and threw the towel onto the pillow where Dean’s head was still buried. Then he settled himself into his own bed across the room and got under the covers, grabbing his battered copy of Crime and Punishment.

“Told you. Wasn’t so bad, was it? Now clean yourself up and get some rest. I’m going to read for a while.”


End file.
